


A Wedding in Three Parts

by felsider (VSSAKJ)



Series: Eternal War: AUs [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Gay Relationship, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VSSAKJ/pseuds/felsider
Summary: Weeks later, the words snuck out of him like a secret he’d been asked to keep. “Hey, Kris, would you wanna get married?”





	1. The Engagement

“For heaven’s sake Drael, when are you going to marry the poor man?”

“Jesus christ!” Drael coughed through his drink, gin burning up his nose. Going red all the way to his ears, he demanded, “Where the hell did that come from?”

Irving sighed, loud and long-suffering. “Please don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“What? No! Why would I?” There were tears in his eyes from where he’d been coughing so hard. Drael dabbed at them and seized the bottle of gin in a panic.

Irving closed his hand around Drael’s wrist and wrenched the bottle from his hand, placing it out of Drael’s reach. Then, he carefully took two quarters of lime from the bowl before them and squeezed one in each glass; eyeing Drael carefully, he took up the tongs and placed two new ice cubs in the lime juice. Finally, he poured gin into his own glass and replaced the bottle where Drael could reclaim it. He swallowed and exhaled a more comfortable sigh. “For starters, you two have a better marriage than I ever did, and I’ve been divorced for twelve years.”

Drael’s fingers clenched around his glass, but he did not lift it.

Irving lifted a finger for each further point. “Secondly, you two have the capacity to argue about things that matter to you and, while it does have very adverse affects on your working life, after a length of time you are able to resolve the matter. I have never had a client so stubborn and thick-headed as you, and yet when Kristopher explains how something you’ve done has hurt or upset him, you somehow manage to extract your head from your ass and make attempts to change your behaviour.”

“Oi.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Irving snapped, scowling. “Thirdly, you live together and quite fucking merrily as far as I can tell. Fourthly, you can’t go anywhere without gazing fondly at one another or looking out for a new exciting place to fuck, thank you very much by the way. You’ve made it so I can’t go anywhere without earmarking places I’ll find you with your dick out. You asshole.” Irving punctuated with heavy raps of his glass on the countertop. “Fifthly, I am able to guarantee, with all my years of business experience, that once you’re married, the last of the tabloid nonsense will dry up. They don’t care if you’re happy and homemaking, they’re only interested in they think there’s a story. You’d have a much quieter life together.”

“How is she, anyway?” Drael asked, voice thick. He grimaced through a swallow of gin and pushed the glass away.

“Who, Rina?” Irving laughed hollowly, waving a hand. “I haven’t a clue. She does perfectly well without me, and I without her. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You drank too much.” Drael stood up and went around the island, taking the bottle with him and screwing on the top. He slid it up onto the top shelf in the kitchen, then turned around to look at Irving, who was swinging one hand back and forth.

“Look, Drael, by now I’ve known you longer than anyone else in your life. Maybe you guys’d get on fine living your whole lives together without signing the piece of paper and wearing those rings. But it’d mean a lot to you, and to Kris, if you got there. You’d be happy. And do you know what?” Irving pointed a finger, staring directly at Drael, “I’d fucking like it if you were happy.”

“Jesus christ, Irving.” Drael repeated, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a lot to think about, you know? Jesus.”

“Whatever.” Irving was suddenly dismissive, twisting the plain gold band on the index finger of his right hand. “I’m drunk and I’m going to bed. If you tell the desk you’re ready to leave they’ll get a car for you. It’s fine—” He added, exasperated, when Drael looked like he was about to speak, “They know where you live and it doesn’t cost me anything. You could live somewhere like this.”

“I like my place.” Drael murmured, ignoring how his mouth nearly formed the words ‘our’. What the hell had Irving started? As the door to Irving’s room snapped shut down the hall, Drael stomped into the entrance to shove his arms into his coat and moodily shut the door to number fourteen behind him. He regarded the elevator button for a moment, then frowned his way thoughtfully into the stairwell.

 

Weeks later, the words snuck out of him like a secret he’d been asked to keep. “Hey, Kris, would you wanna get married?”

They were sitting on the deck, freshly showered following Drael’s afternoon workout session—which had turned into a more pleasant workout involving both of them. Sated and content, they waited for delivery of their dinner, drinking small shots of espresso.

Kris shrugged, gazing out across the city skyline. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

Drael bit his lip, fingers tight around his cup. _‘Well you’ve said it now.’_ The little voice in his head that sounded like Irving insisted. He spoke again, words just a bit shaky, “Would you want to marry me?”

Kris’s gaze snapped towards him then, panic spreading across his fine features. “Are you asking me?!”

“Yeah.” Drael affirmed, trembling now. “Yeah, I am.”

“I.” Kris started, then clapped his hands over his mouth, then whispered loudly, “What brought this on? Why… ?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about it. A lot.” Drael fumbled around in his pocket for the box he’d kept on his person since buying it. A part of him wondered how he’d manage to keep it to himself this long. He slid it unceremoniously across the table. “I got you a ring.”

Kris snatched the box up to his chest and held it close, quivering like a cornered hare. All at once, he bolted upright, shaking his head and turning to the patio doors to go inside.

“Hey.” Drael rose too, following him. “Where are you going?”

“I need to go to Olivia’s.” Kris replied without turning around.

“What, right now?” Drael bit his tongue hard on the next thing he wanted to say, squeezing one hand into a fist so tight it was nearly painful. He came to a halt in the entranceway, watching Kris put on his shoes.

“Yes, _right_ now.” Kris confirmed, his voice ringing high as he pulled on his jacket. When he turned back around, his face was warm and rosy and he gave Drael a quick smile before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Drael echoed hollowly, waiting until the door had firmly shut to turn and punch the nearest wall.

 

“Yes.” It was forty-five minutes later when his mobile lit up with Kris’s number, half an hour after their food had arrived and been abandoned on the counter to slowly go cold. Drael hadn’t even said anything when the words tumbled out of Kris. “Yes, you idiot. Yes! I want to marry you.”


	2. The Ceremony

“What if—”

“No, dealt with.”

“But if—”

“No, taken care of.”

“How about—”

“For fuck’s sake, Drael, if I wanted to handle the bride I’d be following Kristopher around!” Irving finally exclaimed, whirling around to lay his hands on Drael’s shoulders and squeeze. “Relax. I’ve planned more than a few parties in my life. I know exactly what I’m doing, and I have done absolutely everything you need. This is the easy part.”

“Is it?” Drael laughed weakly, tangling his fingers in his hair and tugging. “Are they here?”

“Your parents? Of course. I met them at the airport yesterday and they’re comfortably arranged at the hotel, as you requested.” Irving cocked his head slightly to one side, patting over each of his pockets in turn. He continued speaking, “They’re very nice people. One wonders how they went wrong enough to get you in the results column.”

“It’s not their fault.” Drael smiled, expression thin. “But that’s not who I meant.”

Irving frowned. “Ahh. No. You didn’t want to—”

“I know what their card said.” Drael interrupted, his expression overcasting with displeasure. “Me and Kris talked about it. I wanted to know if they shaped up.”

Irving clicked his tongue with disapproval. “I expect you’ll wait a long time for that, Drael.”

“Nah.” Drael rolled his shoulder, then tapped lightly on Irving’s breast pocket. On cue, Irving fished out the flask of brandy and offered it to Drael, who took a short swallow. Screwing on the cap, he finished his thought, “I don’t think we’ll wait at all.”

“That,” Irving smiled, tucking the flask away again and checking his watch, “Sounds like an excellent idea. Now, we need to get out there. You’re due in a few minutes.”

Drael sighed heavily, adjusting his tie. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

Irving fluttered Drael’s hands away, straightening the tie and collar himself. “Drael. You’ve been ready for this since long before that evening in my apartment, or else nothing I said would have made a damn bit of difference. The strange thing about marriage is how little it changes and how different it feels. Nothing about wearing that ring changes the relationship you and Kristopher already have, so as that relationship is good, you have very little to worry about. But if you want an external reason to do it, I’ve looked into records, and it seems like you’re the first homosexual boxer to marry his partner while still actively in the ring. I know, I know.” Irving held up his hands to stave off any protest Drael began to make. “You live life for yourself, and you don’t consider yourself a particular role model. But you are, Drael, and you’re a hero to a lot of gay kids out there.”

“I’m a sting to a lot of them, too.” Drael growled insistently, shaking his head, “For the ones who can never be like me. It’s not always as easy as hitting it until it goes away.”

“That’s why you’re marrying him.” Irving said simply, letting his hands fall to his sides with an elegant shrug. “Where else would you have gotten self-awareness like that?”

“You’re…” Drael smirked, lightly knocking Irving on the shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get going. My reputation won’t survive you being late to your own damn wedding ceremony.”

 

He stood alone at the end of the aisle, unable to look at anyone. He stared over the officiant’s shoulder at the certificate he’d be signing in less than half an hour—just a piece of a paper, he tried to tell himself, when it was one of the most intimidating things he’d ever faced in his life. _‘Idiot,’_ he thought to himself, _‘You pick fights for a living. You were in jail when you were just a kid. And marriage scares you?’_

He chewed his tongue and recounted the number of people present. The officiant, obviously, and he could hear evidence that the photographer was present. Irving, and Olivia, who somehow managed to fill the same niche despite being completely independent of one another. His mother and father, who he especially couldn’t look at; his mother had inhaled sharply when he entered and he was simply not prepared to deal with that. The guests—limited though they were—had left no physical space where Kris’s parents could fit but their absence rubbed him raw, and he did his best to put away the cold, quiet fury instead of dwell on it. It was, as Irving had told him many times, supposed to be a good day.

The music started, and he turned.

 

“Wow.” Kris breathed, running his fingers around the ring on his finger. “Wow. We did it. We’re married.”

“It was easy.” Drael boasted, then he flinched as Kris drove a finger into his ribs. He grinned, lighter than air. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. It’s nuts, right? What the hell.”

Kris wriggled around in his embrace and kissed him on the cheek, then on the mouth. The telltale click of a camera sounded somewhere in the near distance, but for once it didn’t _matter_ , because they’d chosen these photographs, and this a day they’d be happy to revisit in the future. It was strange and freeing. A second later, Kris gently withdrew his finger from the curve of Drael’s ear and spoke into it, “I think your parents want to talk to you.”

Drael turned to glance over his shoulder and saw them both hovering to one side. Irving and Olivia were deep in discussion, presumably about transport from here to the reception, and the officiant had already left. Their little wedding party was that much smaller, and ignoring them any longer would be too hard. Drael shifted Kris from his lap onto the bench and stood, rolling his shoulder, “You coming?”

Kris shook his head gently, smiling.

Drael sighed and walked those several steps, finally laying eyes on his parents for the first time in over fifteen years. They were skinny, threadbare-looking people, even in the black tie clothing Irving had made sure to acquire with them. Somehow, he was sure they hadn’t liked letting him foot every bill it took to get them here and that made him equally grateful and uncomfortable. His mother’s eyes were wet—he couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry.

The emotions inside him were too complicated, so he nodded once. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting us.” It was his mother who spoke, firm and timbrous. Drael could tell he sounded like her. A single tear stole its way down her face, but she made no sign she’d felt it.

“We’re glad we coud be here.” His father agreed, looking like he’d twisted his fingers together in his pocket. 

Full of splinters, Drael decided. The kind that happened when you gripped something too tightly, and no matter how well sanded, the wood still managed to bite. He extended an arm, drawing out his father’s and pulling him close in a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry. It’s been... a long time.”

“Me too.” His father murmured, thumping his broad back. Drael tried not to wonder how he’d grown so large when he father felt so small. His mother came next, meeting him for the same slightly-awkward one-armed hug. She was shorter than his father, but felt stronger. Closer, he could see that her hair was silver streaked with blonde rather than the golden blonde he remembered.

“I’m so proud of you.” His mother stroked back his hair and let him go, smiling as she did. She took his father’s hand. “Don’t let us keep you.”

“You don’t have to come to the party if you don’t want to. It’s a lot of media and press, just trying to keep the people like—uh. The.” Drael skidded to a stop, casting around his mind for a different sentiment than ‘the people like Olivia’. “The crowd. Trying to keep ‘em happy. They like a good party. It’s just the List, no one I really know.”

“We’ll be there.” His father promised, dipping his head.

“Good. Make sure you come for dinner or something before you have to leave. You should meet Kris. That’s what we’re supposed to do, right?” Suddenly warm, Drael shook his head and smiled brilliantly, a cover for his nerves, “We’ll do something. So come over. Irving will get you there. But we need to go get photographed now.”

And like someone hired to take photographs, the photographer captured that moment, too.


	3. The Party

“So.” Drael stood as the last of the plates were cleared away, clearing his throat. He’d had a beer, he’d been served a good steak, and dessert had been something drenched in syrup that made Kris chirp with delight: it was as good a time as it was ever going to be. “I’m pretty sure someone thought it’d be a good idea for me to make a speech. I don’t know who that is, because anyone who’s ever spoken to me knows that it’s a bad idea asking me to open my big mouth. They even gave me cue cards, see? To keep me in check!” Drael displayed them to the receptive crowd, ignoring the flashes from select media members who’d been allowed to bring their cameras. He folded them in half and tossed them over his shoulder. “Who needs those? See, it was probably Irving, and for anyone who doesn’t know him, he’s down there chewing the inside of his cheek. Say hello Irving!”

His smile as strained as it had ever been, Irving lifted his glass of wine.

“It goes without saying that none of you would be here tonight without him. I mean, literally, he probably curated the list and sent you the invitations himself. So if anyone’s missing—”

“I didn’t.” Irving’s voice punctuated the chuckling in the crowd.

Drael shrugged, carrying on, “But really, I couldn’t have done this without him. He’s the guy who first said ‘marriage’. I’d never thought about it before, even though... I don’t know what I’d do without Kris.” Somewhere, his parents were listening. He held onto that, and spoke like they were the only ones in the room. Just them, Kris, Irving, and Olivia. He smiled, self-conscious. “I’m no good at this kind of shit, so I’m not gonna say a whole lot. But if there’s anyone I’m grateful to, anyone I probably owe more than I can even dream of to, it’s Irving.

“When we started working together, I hated the guy. If you’ve never worked with Irving, let me tell you something: if he doesn’t like it, he’ll let you know. A lot. Tie your shoes wrong? Fix em. Wrong colour jacket? Fix it. And if you’re ever late, he’ll give you hell for weeks. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in his doghouse.”

“Drael.” Irving interrupted again, deadpan, prompting outright laughter from the crowd.

Drael grinned, bolstered, “In shit, then. I’ve been on Irving’s shitlist since the day I signed with him, and eight years later, here we are. He tried using some of his staff to handle me and that just didn’t fucking work, so he had to do it himself. I think he was probably happier than I was when Kris came into my life—because he could use Kris to make me on time. Except for when Kris distracted me and couldn’t say no.”

“Drael!” It was Kris’s interjection this time, warm as the colour on his face and laughing with the crowd.

“Sorry.” Drael shrugged again, “See, look at me, I’m a good boy and I’ve learned my manners. Irving got so disappointed in me I actually felt bad about letting him down, so I apologised. And I think maybe that’s made me a better person. A person who was good enough to marry the man he loves even though the idea scared him shitless. And a person who was good enough to get his ass to the ring on time for those quali matches!” Drael grabbed the glass of wine on the table and lifted it in the air. “To Irving. My manager, my friend, and a one-of-a-kind asshole.”

“Hear hear.” Irving met the salute with his own glass, and drained it dry.

 

“We have to stop dancing soon, Kris.” Drael murmured in his ear, pressed close against him as they revolved on the floor. The music had dwindled, the crowd had dispersed, and it was nearly two in the morning. The world had shrunk to the space between them.

“I know.” Kris walked his fingers all over Drael’s shoulders, clad in silk waistcoat and shirt only—his jacket had long since been discarded somewhere, and the precise location didn’t seem to matter now. For the fifteenth time, he whispered, “Just one more.”

“How long are you going to make me wait?” Drael growled, pressing his lips to the skin under Kris’s ear lobe.

Kris shivered, giggling. He held firm though, tangling his fingers in Drael’s hair and then skimming them down the side of his face. “Until I’m ready for this to end.”

Drael made a noise somewhere between displeasure and acceptance, but he squeezed Kris closer and argued no further. There was more than one song left.

 

“Why Canada?” Irving asked, looking over the travel plans Drael had miraculously—Olivia-ly—put together. He fished up a brochure for the chalet Drael had booked. “Lake Louise? Aren’t you romantic.”

“Shut up.” Drael’s face went rosy even as he went on to defend his choice, “It’s got a lot going for it. Snow and private jacuzzis, lake views and wildlife. The restaurant and service here is 5 diamond stars or something, it’s the best you can get. And it’s fucking far away from just about everything. Real privacy, you know?”

Irving shrugged, smiling. “There’s a reason why I holiday in the Rockies. No cell phone service.”

“Exactly. And I’m…” Drael sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well, you’ve timed it exactly. Your season ended a week ago, and you don’t need to be back for a month.” Irving’s mouth quirked like he was trying not to approve. “Do I expect to hear from you before you return?”

“Depends on what you wanna hear.” Drael grinned, and Irving shook his head, frowning.

“Please. Enjoy your privacy.” Out of habit, Irving checked his watch, then began to bustle around Drael’s kitchen, gathering his briefcase and paperwork. “I have a meeting in forty minutes, and the traffic’s never kind at this time of day. Leave enough time to get to the airport.”

“I will.” Drael grinned again, lopsided now.

Irving cast him an appraising glance, up and down. Finally, he shook his head again and spread his arms. “Told you marriage would suit you. You lout.” In response, Drael wrapped his arms around Irving and squeezed tightly enough to make Irving cough. Back on the ground, Irving patted down his suit and scowled warmly. “Make sure you keep up with your conditioning, and see you in two weeks. Enjoy yourself.”

“I will, Irving.” Drael paused a moment as Irving went to the door. “Thanks.”

“Asshole.” Was the last word, and the door clicked shut.

**Author's Note:**

> In his canon, Drael watches over a number of children of the state and oversees their education. He loves them a lot more than he can admit, but he's not very good at it, since he hates the state and is illiterate.


End file.
